by icarus
It was the Diwali, the Hindu Festival of Lights. It’s a celebration that rivals Christmas in pageantry and color – at least in Dubai where better than half of the population are of Hindu descent. Although Christians, most Filipinos in our office join the celebrations. We get invited into the homes of Indian friends and officemates and we partake of the foods and sweets and delicacies prepared to overflowing. For this particular Diwali night, we sort of agreed to gather in Hari’s flat for dinner. His flat has a quite spacious living room equipped with a Videoke, ideal for such social event. But the more compelling reason for him to host a party was to show off his newborn baby boy.
As arranged the previous day, I will have to pick-up Rituh from her apartment so we could ride together to Sharjah , where Hari lives. Rituh is our office receptionists, a young Mumbai lady who won’t have any trouble charming a lift from any of the bachelors in our office who are all smitten by her stunning beauty. But she chose to hitch a ride with me because she feels most comfortable with someone whom she considers a harmless older brother.
At six o-clock on the dot, my car was parked just in front of Ritu’s place. I went straight to the residential building’s lobby. In front of the lobby, on the sidewalk are grade school boys playing and horsing around rowdily as I passed them by. They remind me of my sons when they were younger. All were loud and excited except for this young handsome boy of ten or eleven who was just sitting on the lower steps of the stair case inside the lobby – holding his skateboard. Ah, my Jay-ar used to be very good at skateboard, I remembered, when he was at the same age as this boy. He was alone and silent, almost sad. I winked and smiled at him trying to cheer him up. He looked into my direction but he seemed to gazed through me – no reaction. I stop by the building guard’s desk to ask for entry permission and directions on which way is to flat 919. He politely gestured me to the right lift lobby so I walked past the staircase and the sad boy wasn’t there anymore. maybe he’d joined the others.
There are six elevator doors, three on each opposing side of the lift lobby. I pressed the up button on the very first door but the chime sounded from the last one at the end of the lobby so I ambled towards it and stood facing the stainless door, waiting for it to part. When it finally opened, I quickly dashed in. And he was there, the boy with his skateboard.
He pressed for the ninth floor even before I could lift my hand. Maybe he overheard us when I asked directions from the Guard. “So you live in the ninth floor?” I attempted for small talk. Silence. He just stood there and stared at the mirrorized sidings of the lift cabin. Something peculiar strikes me with the way he looked but at that moment I could not tell what it was. “Do you know Ritu?”, I asked again. He turned halfway and smiled slightly. I took that to mean yes. The lift shuddered to a stop before I could follow up on my queries.
I stepped out and looked at the door numbers along the corridor. 908, 907, …906. The numbers diminishes towards my left – I walk to towards my right. Perfect logic. As I do so, the elevator door started to close, the boy remained inside, gazing through me, still with that slight smile. “Hmmm…”, I thought to myself. “He was a friendly lift operator, after all.”
Door 919 is just around the third bend. I realized it would have been nearer to walk towards the left rather than the right after the elevator. “You and your lousy logic”, I chided myself. Maybe the boy was smiling because I took the longer direction. What a helpful brat!
Ritu’s refreshing face appeared on the doorway after my second buzz. “How nice of you, Mr Sunni. I think you’re five minutes too early though. I still have to be in the powder room. Come and have a sit inside. I’ll have Shahin prepare some drinks for you”.
Ritu, despite her cosmopolitan looks and outlooks, still speaks with a distinct sing-song accent revealing her origins. But her living room is completely contemporary, no hint of ethnic decors and tapestries and hard colors that usually dominate Indian homes. The sofa and sala set including the center table are straight out of IKEA. The entertainment stand frames her full-HD Flat screen, Blue-ray player, mini-theater components, and a docked ipod; the stand-up speakers providing harmonized counterpoints on either side of the stand. A desktop computer sits on a reading table beside a book cabinet. The walls and the curtains are color-coordinated. A cubist style painting hangs by the wall. Very contemporary indeed
On top of the book cabinet, a picture framed in clear plastic caught my eye. I approached it for a closer look. It was the boy in the lift. Now I know why he looks so striking to me while I observed him in the elevator. He actually has Ritu’s eyes and cleft chin, even the long eye-lashes. They must be siblings.
“That’s Tahir, my younger brother. People tell me we resemble each other.” It’s Ritu emerging from the passageway.
“Yes, so much.” I agreed. “I meet him a while ago in the lift. He was a little shy, isn’t it? I think he’s sad about something, too”.
“Let’s go, I’m ready” she said. “Finish your tea.”
“Ok, its finish.” I put the tea cup down.
This time, we proceeded by the shorter route to the lift.
“So you met my brother, too?” she asked quite laughingly while on the way down in the lift.
“Yes”, I said. “But why are you smiling?”
She just smiled her knowing smile some more. “A number of people have told me the same story. Is he holding his skateboard?”
“Yes.”
“My brother was riding that thing in the street when he got hit by a speeding SUV. It was a horrific accident!”
“Oh, he recovered very well”, I said.
“No, he did not survive it. He’s dead since three years ago.”
My hair stood up. Now I realized why he looked so peculiar while we were on the lift.
He did not have a reflection in the mirrorized wall!
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Wednesday, January 28, 2009
Monday, January 26, 2009
The Jueteng Combination
Two weeks after it was posted, the puzzle in my article Amusing Challenge 2 remains unresolved except for the cryptic comment posted by Carlo Chan which hinted on the correct answer but left out the rationale. Knowing Carlo, he either is too busy attending at his daytime job (He is a Structural Engineer at BG&E Consulting) or he considers the puzzle too simple as to be self-evident. A third but unlikely explanation is that he is one of them - ET's. hehehe. So here's how I would have solved it...
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The Jueteng Combination
by icarus
A lot of people were thrown off at their attempt at making sense of the puzzle because they made wrong assumptions. Most start their solutions using ratios and scaling the numbers to fit the given sums and products. But it doesn’t work that way and invariably, they end up with contradictions and inconsistencies.
A subtle clue which most people miss or dismiss as inconsequential is the number of fingers in those extra terrestrials: four fingers in each hand.
Have you ever wondered why we usually, almost intuitively, group things by ten or multiples of ten? Or why we have ten numerical symbols, 0 to 9? Yes, you got it right - it’s because we have ten fingers in our hands! Our number systems evolved from our primitive way of counting with our fingers. But as the homo sapien advances, the need to count beyond ten also became a real challenge. Man ran out of fingers to use and he cant possibly have unique symbols to represent the infinitely large number of integers. Thus, place values in the numeric system were invented. The 5 in 25 is totally different from the 5 in 524 because they occupy different locations, although they have exactly the same symbol. Using this concept, we actually meant:
524 = 5 x 10^2 + 2 x 10^1 + 4 x 10^0 = 5 x 100 + 2 x 10 + 4 x 1 = 500 + 20 + 4
25 = 2 x 10^1 + 5 x 10^0 = 2 x 10 + 5 x 1 = 20 + 5
To us in the present age, this idea of place values is not given a second glance - no big deal -as if it is a natural phenomenon - but it is not! It was one of the most remarkable concepts ever developed by man. If you don’t believe me, try dividing 2364 by 8 using the less evolved Roman Numerals!
Which bring us back to the ET’s with 8 fingers in their hands. We can hypothesize that they will also be grouping things by eight, not ten, as a matter of natural course. As such, they will only use 8 symbols, ( 0 to 7). And they will use powers of 8 to define their place values much like we use powers of 10 (and much like the electrical logic circuit which uses powers of two because it only got two states, on or off representing one or zero)
Thus, if we test our theory on the given sum we prove that:
765 + 45
= (7 x 8^2 + 6 x 8^1 + 5 x 8^0) + (4 x 8^1 + 5 x 8^0)
= 501 + 37
= 538 in our decimal system.
1,032
(1 x 8^3 + 0 x 8^2 + 3 x 8^1 + 2 x 8^0)
= 538 also, in our decimal system.
2 x 63
= (2 x 8^0) x (6 x8^1 + 3 x 8^0)
= 2 x 51
= 102 in our decimal system.
146
= (1 x 8^2 + 4 x 8^1 + 6 x 8^0)
= 102 also,in our decimal system.
Thus, it is verified that the numbers were actually written in base 8.
In same manner, you can arrive at the winning combination being sought by my friend, Pidol which is:
16 + 3 = 21
72 - 54 = 16
A lot of people were thrown off at their attempt at making sense of the puzzle because they made wrong assumptions. Most start their solutions using ratios and scaling the numbers to fit the given sums and products. But it doesn’t work that way and invariably, they end up with contradictions and inconsistencies.
A subtle clue which most people miss or dismiss as inconsequential is the number of fingers in those extra terrestrials: four fingers in each hand.
Have you ever wondered why we usually, almost intuitively, group things by ten or multiples of ten? Or why we have ten numerical symbols, 0 to 9? Yes, you got it right - it’s because we have ten fingers in our hands! Our number systems evolved from our primitive way of counting with our fingers. But as the homo sapien advances, the need to count beyond ten also became a real challenge. Man ran out of fingers to use and he cant possibly have unique symbols to represent the infinitely large number of integers. Thus, place values in the numeric system were invented. The 5 in 25 is totally different from the 5 in 524 because they occupy different locations, although they have exactly the same symbol. Using this concept, we actually meant:
524 = 5 x 10^2 + 2 x 10^1 + 4 x 10^0 = 5 x 100 + 2 x 10 + 4 x 1 = 500 + 20 + 4
25 = 2 x 10^1 + 5 x 10^0 = 2 x 10 + 5 x 1 = 20 + 5
To us in the present age, this idea of place values is not given a second glance - no big deal -as if it is a natural phenomenon - but it is not! It was one of the most remarkable concepts ever developed by man. If you don’t believe me, try dividing 2364 by 8 using the less evolved Roman Numerals!
Which bring us back to the ET’s with 8 fingers in their hands. We can hypothesize that they will also be grouping things by eight, not ten, as a matter of natural course. As such, they will only use 8 symbols, ( 0 to 7). And they will use powers of 8 to define their place values much like we use powers of 10 (and much like the electrical logic circuit which uses powers of two because it only got two states, on or off representing one or zero)
Thus, if we test our theory on the given sum we prove that:
765 + 45
= (7 x 8^2 + 6 x 8^1 + 5 x 8^0) + (4 x 8^1 + 5 x 8^0)
= 501 + 37
= 538 in our decimal system.
1,032
(1 x 8^3 + 0 x 8^2 + 3 x 8^1 + 2 x 8^0)
= 538 also, in our decimal system.
2 x 63
= (2 x 8^0) x (6 x8^1 + 3 x 8^0)
= 2 x 51
= 102 in our decimal system.
146
= (1 x 8^2 + 4 x 8^1 + 6 x 8^0)
= 102 also,in our decimal system.
Thus, it is verified that the numbers were actually written in base 8.
In same manner, you can arrive at the winning combination being sought by my friend, Pidol which is:
16 + 3 = 21
72 - 54 = 16
both in the octal system.
Anunsiyo: Naparagsit nga Pandek!
.
.
hehehe...
-ise.
Tuesday, January 20, 2009
How I become a Prince – Part 2
by Angelo C. Canedo
My First Encounter
It was seven am; the alarm woke me yawning while I stood up almost losing the balance. Impatiently, I dressed up after an inevitable scorching bathe. My hunger brought me to the kitchen beyond my room where the table has been set with a bunch of meal that might have been prepared for me for dinner. Looking awkward to the mixture of yellowish rice and cuts of chicken, which they call the ‘biryani’ and a side dish of leafy vegetables with slices of onions and lemon adding the drama, caused me to lose my appetite. I rushed to the pantry to prepare a cup of coffee; its aroma had been enough for me to calm the boiling stomach.
I was directed to the main access across the kitchen and traversed immediately passing along the yard where excess construction materials were shelved methodically depending on importance and the others were scattered within the boundary blocking the way to the office. The sun was radiating unselfishly causing a warmer atmosphere than it was last night so I dashed a distant away and in haste to punch my time card. Fronting the reception is Arnel who was busy with phone calls and office works. “Good morning kabayan!” replying him back in the same manner as he inserted his concise greeting. Simultaneously, while wandering in a small office suited for the business, a shouting dispute echoing at the room next to Arnel captured my attention. “Boss is inside! You will meet him afterwards”, he continued after his phone conversation in a simple-carabao english as if he is cautioning a kindergarten what has to be done.
To establish an acquaintance, Arnel being used with the circumstance figured out an incomparably boring place like Abqaiq – the home to one of the most conservative cultures on the planet where the second largest oil and gas plant in the world can be found. His fairly earned sincere testimony was terribly disappointing for enthusiasts. Few minutes later, two irritated men who went out from the room approached me with misery after the reprimand. “Hi, I am Faiz, the project manager” told the one confidently who resembled fresh from sleep. “Gauz will be your driver for the time being” he continued referring to the other Indian in distinctive unwashed clothing with dried grease spots accentuating his get-up.
Faiz courteously appealed for a lecture and summarized the ABCs beneficial to a neophyte like me as he displayed the breakdown of my undertakings. During the argument, a Saudi national feeling smart and gorgeous (but absurd to me) in his ankle-length colorless vestment with sleeves like a clergy, just enough to fit his masculinity, head dressed with red and white checkered piece of rectangular cloth folded to form a triangle stiffened on top by a black snake-like wreath came out from the room and moved in the direction where Faiz and I were seated.
Salah, seriously in a frowned countenance that made me more apprehensive relayed his message through Faiz who can speak both English and Arabic quite fluently. He gave me a copy of my passport stamped with his signature enough to prove that I am employed in his company. Together, he handed me an advance pay while an impulsive call as it was before the dawn break interrupted the informal talk.
After a while, everybody left the office except me and Arnel who was also about to leave. “Join me for lunch sir” is Arnel’s cordial invitation while I remained mesmerizing my ignorance. “You will get used to their music playing five times a day as a cue for their prayers” he added ridiculously while looking at the people rushing towards the mosque across the office.
Though Arnel belittled his apologetic and humble preparation, I guzzled to his offer of left-over fried rice and micro waved ‘chicken adobo’ outnumbered with countless slices of potatoes enough to augment my skipped meals. After which Arnel while sharing his often described as regrettable encounters accompanied me to the nearby ‘baqalla’; the incessant odor emanating from filthy shoppers inside the mini-supermarket (except me) had been so uncomfortable causing us to rush out after purchasing my needful. The undesirable incident brought me to come across a ‘mullah’; a Muslim learned in Islamic law and theology. “How are you kabayan?” he uttered in our language as Arnel dragged me away from him, knowing the smiling Filipino very well and murmured “Get rid of Salem otherwise you will be in trouble”. No further interrogations as I became aware of our pre-departure seminar picturing Muslims like Salem communally known as ‘muttawah’ are police assets. Later then after the hassles, Arnel and I parted ways to engage in our own work obligations.
As the days turned into weeks and weeks into a month – still a long wait for the calendar to finish the pages for a two-year contract, I have tried to adjust in all the aspects in an abrupt interval but the strenuous work-home routines always trigger my homesickness. To overcome the incident, it became a part of the stereotype activity to play ‘tong-its’ in my room as our favorite hang-out, with a bottle of ‘sadiqi’ or a preserved mixture of water and yeast fermented to become an alcoholic drink that could possibly invite the sleep. Before the session, we used to fetch ‘sadiqi’ from the neighboring camp hidden in a small bottle of mineral water since liquor or any of its form in Saudi is prohibited. As usual, the ever-disappointed Ras being aggravated by his so-called parasites who often call him for another remittance turned his misfortune to shuffle the cards more often as a result of his bad luck.
One Thursday evening, while we were amused by our stories, drunk but still conscious as we have gone ludicrous laughing at our stupid jokes, somebody knocked at the door expecting it would be Gauz whom I sent for an errand to buy us a grilled chicken for our ‘pulutan’. The door was unlocked and to our surprise Salem is observing the scenario with cards and ‘sadiqi’ in our hands prepared for the toast…
My First Encounter
It was seven am; the alarm woke me yawning while I stood up almost losing the balance. Impatiently, I dressed up after an inevitable scorching bathe. My hunger brought me to the kitchen beyond my room where the table has been set with a bunch of meal that might have been prepared for me for dinner. Looking awkward to the mixture of yellowish rice and cuts of chicken, which they call the ‘biryani’ and a side dish of leafy vegetables with slices of onions and lemon adding the drama, caused me to lose my appetite. I rushed to the pantry to prepare a cup of coffee; its aroma had been enough for me to calm the boiling stomach.
I was directed to the main access across the kitchen and traversed immediately passing along the yard where excess construction materials were shelved methodically depending on importance and the others were scattered within the boundary blocking the way to the office. The sun was radiating unselfishly causing a warmer atmosphere than it was last night so I dashed a distant away and in haste to punch my time card. Fronting the reception is Arnel who was busy with phone calls and office works. “Good morning kabayan!” replying him back in the same manner as he inserted his concise greeting. Simultaneously, while wandering in a small office suited for the business, a shouting dispute echoing at the room next to Arnel captured my attention. “Boss is inside! You will meet him afterwards”, he continued after his phone conversation in a simple-carabao english as if he is cautioning a kindergarten what has to be done.
To establish an acquaintance, Arnel being used with the circumstance figured out an incomparably boring place like Abqaiq – the home to one of the most conservative cultures on the planet where the second largest oil and gas plant in the world can be found. His fairly earned sincere testimony was terribly disappointing for enthusiasts. Few minutes later, two irritated men who went out from the room approached me with misery after the reprimand. “Hi, I am Faiz, the project manager” told the one confidently who resembled fresh from sleep. “Gauz will be your driver for the time being” he continued referring to the other Indian in distinctive unwashed clothing with dried grease spots accentuating his get-up.
Faiz courteously appealed for a lecture and summarized the ABCs beneficial to a neophyte like me as he displayed the breakdown of my undertakings. During the argument, a Saudi national feeling smart and gorgeous (but absurd to me) in his ankle-length colorless vestment with sleeves like a clergy, just enough to fit his masculinity, head dressed with red and white checkered piece of rectangular cloth folded to form a triangle stiffened on top by a black snake-like wreath came out from the room and moved in the direction where Faiz and I were seated.
Salah, seriously in a frowned countenance that made me more apprehensive relayed his message through Faiz who can speak both English and Arabic quite fluently. He gave me a copy of my passport stamped with his signature enough to prove that I am employed in his company. Together, he handed me an advance pay while an impulsive call as it was before the dawn break interrupted the informal talk.
After a while, everybody left the office except me and Arnel who was also about to leave. “Join me for lunch sir” is Arnel’s cordial invitation while I remained mesmerizing my ignorance. “You will get used to their music playing five times a day as a cue for their prayers” he added ridiculously while looking at the people rushing towards the mosque across the office.
Though Arnel belittled his apologetic and humble preparation, I guzzled to his offer of left-over fried rice and micro waved ‘chicken adobo’ outnumbered with countless slices of potatoes enough to augment my skipped meals. After which Arnel while sharing his often described as regrettable encounters accompanied me to the nearby ‘baqalla’; the incessant odor emanating from filthy shoppers inside the mini-supermarket (except me) had been so uncomfortable causing us to rush out after purchasing my needful. The undesirable incident brought me to come across a ‘mullah’; a Muslim learned in Islamic law and theology. “How are you kabayan?” he uttered in our language as Arnel dragged me away from him, knowing the smiling Filipino very well and murmured “Get rid of Salem otherwise you will be in trouble”. No further interrogations as I became aware of our pre-departure seminar picturing Muslims like Salem communally known as ‘muttawah’ are police assets. Later then after the hassles, Arnel and I parted ways to engage in our own work obligations.
As the days turned into weeks and weeks into a month – still a long wait for the calendar to finish the pages for a two-year contract, I have tried to adjust in all the aspects in an abrupt interval but the strenuous work-home routines always trigger my homesickness. To overcome the incident, it became a part of the stereotype activity to play ‘tong-its’ in my room as our favorite hang-out, with a bottle of ‘sadiqi’ or a preserved mixture of water and yeast fermented to become an alcoholic drink that could possibly invite the sleep. Before the session, we used to fetch ‘sadiqi’ from the neighboring camp hidden in a small bottle of mineral water since liquor or any of its form in Saudi is prohibited. As usual, the ever-disappointed Ras being aggravated by his so-called parasites who often call him for another remittance turned his misfortune to shuffle the cards more often as a result of his bad luck.
One Thursday evening, while we were amused by our stories, drunk but still conscious as we have gone ludicrous laughing at our stupid jokes, somebody knocked at the door expecting it would be Gauz whom I sent for an errand to buy us a grilled chicken for our ‘pulutan’. The door was unlocked and to our surprise Salem is observing the scenario with cards and ‘sadiqi’ in our hands prepared for the toast…
.
.
Abangan ang susunod na Kabanata...
.
Sunday, January 18, 2009
Another Thank You Letter
Dear All,
I am pleased to share with you a letter from the Molina Family which I received belatedly just today expressing their genuine appreciation of the little amount we were able to share with them, a part of the amount we raised during our Christmas Picnic at the Creek Park.
-ise
January 5, 2009
To : Former SLC Engineering Instructors/
BSCE Alumni and Student of SLC
who are in Dubai , UAE
Through: Engr. Isagani Espejo
Engr. Raul Nones
Dubai , UAE
To : Former SLC Engineering Instructors/
BSCE Alumni and Student of SLC
who are in Dubai , UAE
Through: Engr. Isagani Espejo
Engr. Raul Nones
Dubai , UAE
Dear Fellow Louisians:
Greetings; A Prosperous New Year to all!
We can’t find adequate words to express our feelings on how grateful we are upon receiving the amount of ten thousand pesos (P10,000) as financial support you extended me which is intended for my medication and treatment for my present condition of prostate cancer. God has His own plans for each one of us and so I entrust everything now to God.
May all this blessings you extended me will return to you all and your families a thousand fold.
Thank you very much and God bless us all!
Very truly yours,
Mr. and Mrs. Sofronio Molina, Sr.
and Family
What's In A Name?
An Ilocano Green Joke
by icarus
I know of two brothers, Tim and Tom who lost their father at a very young age. We were neighbors in the same barangay and they grew up within my sight. So after being widowed a few years, their mother decided to remarry. By twist of kind fate, she got married to her American pen pal who is not only a good provider but is also loving and kindly and very close to the two boys.
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John is a retired US Marine who loves the beaches and the outdoors so he decided to retire to the easy life of La Union. He treated the boys like they were his own sons and they also take to him like a real father. The three of them were inseparable especially on weekends, constantly on board John's yellow Wrangler Jeep and going into outings, sporting events, fishing and even cockfights which John picked up from another neighbor. Tina could not be happier for his two boys. She felt she made a perfect choice when she married John.
For practical reasons, John decided to formalize the adoption of Tim and Tom. It would reduce much of the hassle, John justified, if they all have the same family name should they decide to move back to the US of A. Tina could not agree more and happily announced their decision to her sons... err...their sons. Imagine Tina's and John's surprise when the two boys vehemently protested.
"But Mama, we could not take Uncle John's family name. Flores is just fine. Let's keep it that way, please" they pleaded in chorus. John and Tina exchanged incredulous glances, shrugging their shoulders, obviously dismayed. "I know you love your father, but he is gone. He is a very reasonable man, god bless his soul...I know that he is happy that we found a very good man for you... for all of us. John loves you very much and wants you to be his real sons. I'm sure your father would understand that." Tina explained, feeling a little embarrassed and apologetic that John would be offended by the apparent snub.
Tom being the elder spoke out. "Actually, that is not our concern, Mama. We love to be Uncle John's sons and he knows that. But if we will have his family name, we will become the butt of jokes in the neighborhood and in school, especially. It will not sound so good"
Tina knitted her eyebrows and thought for a while... then upon discernment, burst into uncontrollable laughter...
John's family name is Manghar.
And it would sound sexy but vulgar after "Tim" or "Tom" in Ilocano!
For practical reasons, John decided to formalize the adoption of Tim and Tom. It would reduce much of the hassle, John justified, if they all have the same family name should they decide to move back to the US of A. Tina could not agree more and happily announced their decision to her sons... err...their sons. Imagine Tina's and John's surprise when the two boys vehemently protested.
"But Mama, we could not take Uncle John's family name. Flores is just fine. Let's keep it that way, please" they pleaded in chorus. John and Tina exchanged incredulous glances, shrugging their shoulders, obviously dismayed. "I know you love your father, but he is gone. He is a very reasonable man, god bless his soul...I know that he is happy that we found a very good man for you... for all of us. John loves you very much and wants you to be his real sons. I'm sure your father would understand that." Tina explained, feeling a little embarrassed and apologetic that John would be offended by the apparent snub.
Tom being the elder spoke out. "Actually, that is not our concern, Mama. We love to be Uncle John's sons and he knows that. But if we will have his family name, we will become the butt of jokes in the neighborhood and in school, especially. It will not sound so good"
Tina knitted her eyebrows and thought for a while... then upon discernment, burst into uncontrollable laughter...
John's family name is Manghar.
And it would sound sexy but vulgar after "Tim" or "Tom" in Ilocano!
.
. <<<<<<<<<<< >>>>>>>>>>>>
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Su-pot ti saan nga agkatawa hehehe.
-ise.
Why Me?
In Civil Engineering, men outnumber women perhaps by a ratio of 10 to 1. It's maybe because the Civil Engineering field is often considered a male, if not macho, domain - it being closely associated with the brawny, not to mention grimy, work of Construction. Thus, when ladies dare to be Civil Engineers, they must have that extra something to offset the "muscles" requirement; which usually means they have exceptional talent in math and have extraordinary mechanical aptitude. Norilyn Castillo was one of those shes who are gifted with such a rare combination of talents. Back in college, she was the silent type, almost shy yet very very smart. No wonder she was a consistent Dean's Lister and Academic Scholar. And looking at Norilyn, you might wonder why God was too unfairly generous to her - the quintessential beauty and brains. Louisians, lets give the space to the muse of SLC CE Class 96.
Why Me?
sent in by Norilyn Castillo
I asked God why I wasn't rich.
And He showed me a man with the wealth of a thousand kings, who was lonely, and had no one to share it with.
I asked God why I wasn't beautiful.
And He showed me a woman more beautiful than any other, who was ugly because of her vanity.
I asked God why he'd allowed me to become old.
And He showed me a boy of 16, who lay dead at the scene of a car accident.
I asked God why I didn't have a bigger house.
And He showed me a family of six, who'd just been evicted from their tiny shack, and were forced to live on the street.
I asked God why I had to work.
And He showed me a man who couldn't find a decent job, because he'd never learned to read.
I asked God why I wasn't more popular.
And He showed me a socialite with a thousand friends, who all left the moment the money and parties were no longer there.
I asked God why I wasn't smarter.
And He showed me a natural born genius, who was serving life in prison for making ill use of his knowledge.
I asked God why He put up with a thankless sinner like me.
And He showed me His Bible, and His Son who took my place at the judgment.
And I knew then how much He loved me.
.
Wednesday, January 14, 2009
An Amusing Challenge II
Anak Ng Jueteng!
A Puzzle by Icarus
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A Puzzle by Icarus
.
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My friend, Pidol is obsessed at getting rich - and getting rich quick. That explains his penchant with sweepstakes, lotto, jueteng, even raffles or anything that offers big prizes for a minimal bet. Chances and probabilities doesn’t mean anything to him thus, he just shrugs off his shoulders everytime I tell him that he has more chances at catching a fish in the Sahara than getting the lotto number right.
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“It’s fate and luck. If the gods will it, it would happen. Someday the gods will show me a sign.” he maintains.
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And so, day by day, he waited and betted; and all the time looking for his long-awaited sign from heaven. He has numerical interpretations for everything, every incident, every move. The problem is, he is only able to decipher the clues and make the numbers fit his observations after the winning numbers are out. “Kam-mali manen diay kalag kon. Kusto kuma no datay pangkis nga nakalabos iti tinayaak. Datay to met anunsiyo iti asilok nga baket ti natayaak.”, he would lament.
.
But one Saturday morning, he was at my door very early. He seems very excited and out of breath like he ran the half a kilometer distance between his house and mine. “You seem upbeat today, Pidol. Did you come to give me my balato?” I jestingly asked. “No, not yet bossing.” said Pidol in between his pantings. “But if you will help me, I will surely win the jackpot at noon today.” I laughed and invited him in for coffee.
.
“How could I help you? If I knew how to win it, we would probably be sipping brewed Starbucks now instead of this instant Blend-45.” I told him. “But I’m telling you, Bossing, this one is segurado. If I have to borrow money, I will, just to grab this opportunity!”
.
Sensing I am about to be a scam victim, I told him matter-of-factly: “Not now, Pidol. I am drained. And your inaanak and my older daughter need big amounts for their midterm school fees.”
.
“You and your dirty mind”, he said. “I don’t need another loan from you. You could help me with my las night's dream. You see, before I went to sleep last night, I prayed for a dream to give me the winning number combination for today’s jueteng. And yes, it was granted - only that the numbers were encrypted.”
.
“Encrypted? How was that?” I asked, suppressing laughter and incredulity.
.
Pidol continued: “You see I dreamt of aliens who looked like humans except that they have knees that bend backwards like those of chickens and they have four fingers instead of five in each hand. In my dream they were quite friendly and they lend me some kind of a headwear so that I could speak and listen in their own language and read their alphabet, as well.”
.
“How wonderful and exciting...”, I yawned.
.
“The interesting part is I was able to ask them the winning numbers for today!” Pidol continued.
.
“And they gave you …?”. I was almost mad.
.
“Yes, but only if I could figure it out. And that’s why, I come running to you.”
.
I stood up, preparing to show him the door.
.
“Wait, bossing. wait! He pleaded. “Can you at least give it a try? The aliens told me that If I could at least do a little arithmetic, I would have the winning numbers. They say the winning numbers are: The sum of 16 and 3; and the difference between 72 and 54.”
.
“And you need a calculator for that?” I raised my voice.
.
“But bossing, in their strange world,
.
“It’s fate and luck. If the gods will it, it would happen. Someday the gods will show me a sign.” he maintains.
.
And so, day by day, he waited and betted; and all the time looking for his long-awaited sign from heaven. He has numerical interpretations for everything, every incident, every move. The problem is, he is only able to decipher the clues and make the numbers fit his observations after the winning numbers are out. “Kam-mali manen diay kalag kon. Kusto kuma no datay pangkis nga nakalabos iti tinayaak. Datay to met anunsiyo iti asilok nga baket ti natayaak.”, he would lament.
.
But one Saturday morning, he was at my door very early. He seems very excited and out of breath like he ran the half a kilometer distance between his house and mine. “You seem upbeat today, Pidol. Did you come to give me my balato?” I jestingly asked. “No, not yet bossing.” said Pidol in between his pantings. “But if you will help me, I will surely win the jackpot at noon today.” I laughed and invited him in for coffee.
.
“How could I help you? If I knew how to win it, we would probably be sipping brewed Starbucks now instead of this instant Blend-45.” I told him. “But I’m telling you, Bossing, this one is segurado. If I have to borrow money, I will, just to grab this opportunity!”
.
Sensing I am about to be a scam victim, I told him matter-of-factly: “Not now, Pidol. I am drained. And your inaanak and my older daughter need big amounts for their midterm school fees.”
.
“You and your dirty mind”, he said. “I don’t need another loan from you. You could help me with my las night's dream. You see, before I went to sleep last night, I prayed for a dream to give me the winning number combination for today’s jueteng. And yes, it was granted - only that the numbers were encrypted.”
.
“Encrypted? How was that?” I asked, suppressing laughter and incredulity.
.
Pidol continued: “You see I dreamt of aliens who looked like humans except that they have knees that bend backwards like those of chickens and they have four fingers instead of five in each hand. In my dream they were quite friendly and they lend me some kind of a headwear so that I could speak and listen in their own language and read their alphabet, as well.”
.
“How wonderful and exciting...”, I yawned.
.
“The interesting part is I was able to ask them the winning numbers for today!” Pidol continued.
.
“And they gave you …?”. I was almost mad.
.
“Yes, but only if I could figure it out. And that’s why, I come running to you.”
.
I stood up, preparing to show him the door.
.
“Wait, bossing. wait! He pleaded. “Can you at least give it a try? The aliens told me that If I could at least do a little arithmetic, I would have the winning numbers. They say the winning numbers are: The sum of 16 and 3; and the difference between 72 and 54.”
.
“And you need a calculator for that?” I raised my voice.
.
“But bossing, in their strange world,
.
765 + 45 = 1,032;
.
and
.
2 x 63 = 146 !”
.
I was completely thrown off.
Can you help my friend come up with his winning combination?
.
and
.
2 x 63 = 146 !”
.
I was completely thrown off.
Can you help my friend come up with his winning combination?
.
.
Send in your solution together with the explanations. I promised to publish the first one that gives the correct answer and logical deducement. And 10% of the winnings my friend is gonna get, right Pidol? Good Luck, Louisians.
.
-ise
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